The Life and Death of Harry Potter: A Necromancer's Tale
by PipeLad
Summary: Harry Potter grew up away from the Dursley's, away from Britain altogether. Raised by a Necromancer, Harry is now independent and on the road for power. Watch as he struggles to remain independent, and does his best to become the most fearsome necromancer the world has ever seen. Rated M for now, will not change. No pairings/ships. No slash at all. Not too much, if any bashing.
1. Chapter 1

Still don't own it. J.K. Rowling still does own it.

Welcome to my second story, this time Necromancer Harry, he grew up hard and fast away from Britain, and is in the process of becoming a full fledged necromancer. This magic system is not as complicated as the one in Night is Long. No ships, I don't really write ships. Read and Review y'all. Also enjoy, don't forget to enjoy.

Smoke lazily rose and fell as it twisted through the minor draft moving through the small room, emanating from a thick cigar in a shady figure's hand. The small, but lavishly decorated room had two figures in it, one sitting in a leather chair behind an ornate and expensive looking desk, and the other seated in a less comfortable, less stylishly cliche chair. Every once in a while the figure seated behind the desk would raise the cigar to his mouth, take a drag from it, and slowly breath out the arid smoke, as he listened intently to the other figure speaking. He was displeased with the information the other figure in the dark, smoke filled, room had brought to him.

Slowly turning in his dark green leather chair the wizard sighed as he brought the half finished cigar to his mouth. It was terribly cliche, the slow turn in the chair, the dark room with the shutters and blinds drawn to block the outside light, it was all as if it was from a bad, low budget muggle film, but the figure had no notion of any such thing. The figure quite hated the muggles, to be completely honest.

The second figure, sitting in front of the desk the cigar smoking figure sat behind, flinched slightly as he met the first figure in the eye. He had seen that look before, the cold, hard gaze that promised punishment for his failure. He knew that he had failed his given task, and he also knew he would be punished for it. Hell, he might even be punished for the fact that he flinched. He would not be having a pleasant night.

The other man would be having a very pleasant night, at least by his standards. He laughed as he saw the flinch and fear in the beady eyes of the goblin sitting before him. He was going to have to punish the goblin, they were both sure of that. Setting his cigar down for a moment in the ashtray on the ornately carved, highly polished desk he sat behind he picked up his wand from the midst of the pieces of parchment and paper scattered all across the desk.

Smiling grimly he rose from his chair he brought his wand to bear, pointed at the goblin in front of him.

"_Eviscero."_ Blood splattered all across the wall opposite him as the goblin was messily eviscerated in front of him Harry James Potter smiled for the first time in months. Of course it was a cold, malicious smile that was only brought about by the bloodshed and death he had caused it was still a smile.

Still smiling Harry waved his wand, silently vanishing the blood, and spelling the corpse into a stone chamber that was three stories below exactly where he was standing now. He was in a two story building, crudely hidden from the world inside a small forest, behind some basic concealing enchantments. The corpse would now be in an ice cold chamber in the basement level of his house.

Here Harry lived and he had been living here about eight months. He had lived a fast, tough life, he was only sixteen years old after all. He knew all about his role in society, and even all about the magical world, obviously, he had just killed a goblin with a dark spell, one could not be ignorant of their birthright and kill magical creatures by using magic. From the time he was very little he had been raised by an old man, a hermit of sorts, who had been shunned by society. Technically the man's very existence was illegal. He was a practitioner of old magics, very very old magics, some of the very first to be created and uncovered, but they were quite dark. Dark enough for any practice of them to be illegal these days, in every country that had a unified government and codified laws. The punishment for being caught practicing or teaching these magics was death, in almost every country, no matter how lenient or otherwise tolerant the country this did not stop many people, it just made them go underground, sometimes literally, actually many times literally, to hide their practices from the world. The old man who took Harry in and trained him was a necromancer, a mage skilled and well versed in death magic and reanimation of corpses to do his bidding.

Picking up bis cigar from where he left it Harry took another puff. His old teacher had hated the cigars, and so Harry had rarely gotten to enjoy them. That was up until just over a year ago, when his teacher, friend, and advisor had been killed by none other than Albus Dumbledore himself during an Order of the Phoenix raid on their hideout, probably trying to locate Harry Potter, who had been missing from the magical world for years past when he was due to make his return. But the Harry Potter that Dumbledore wanted and sought after had died long ago, over a decade in fact. The Savior of the wizarding world that Dumbledore wished was replaced by a dark prince, a necromancer in training. Sure Harry Potter had never actually died, but his personality and who he was at his very center, his soul itself, had changed fundamentally from when he was a child.

But ever since the death of his teacher Harry had been unable to continue his training at the same rate, he had been progressing steadily before, now he was unable to make the same progress. He had no teacher anymore, and on top of that he had no one else. It was just him, and his few servants he had left.

He knew he probably should not have killed the goblin, but he had been very upset at the failure. Besides, it was not like the goblin was _totally_ useless dead. Harry could always use practice to help further his necromancy skills. He still had trouble with true reanimation, he could create zombie like creatures, that could do very simple tasks, but he was not at the level of creating Inferi, yet.

Sitting back down at the desk Harry sighed once more, his teacher had left him to inherit several large criminal enterprises, and he had business to do. Of course he was just a fifteen year old boy when his teacher had been killed and left him to run the businesses. All of the larger or medium sized businesses fell apart almost immediately, he simply could not run them without his teacher. He did however manage to hold a few of the smaller ones together, which supplied him with a semi-steady decent flow of muggle money, which he would then convert into magical money or keep as muggle currency.

Twisting slightly in his chair he opened a drawer on his left and removed a stack of pound notes from it, and from another drawer he removed a piece of parchment, quill, and inkwell. Counting the money twice to ensure accuracy he recorded it onto the parchment, and using a muggle calculator did some calculations with the muggle-magical exchange rate.

Most of the money he held in his hands and on the desk in front of him would be reinvested in other criminal business pursuits, but he would be able to take about a hundred and fifty galleons worth for his own use. This was not very much, but it was all he had left over this month after budgeting away the rest. He might have to go out and make some himself sometime soon, he was running low on disposable savings and cash at hand. He would have to fix this soon enough, and probably a week spent in downtown London doing various things would relieve some of the pressure, at least money wise.

He would have to be saving up to purchase another piece of property soon, he had damaged this one beyond the point of being able to repair and sell it, and he had to stay on the move. Perhaps he would just take the next one, he had done so with his mentor before, they had simply killed the muggles and had magically hidden the property, removed it from muggle memory and knowledge. Harry had especially liked that house as well, it had a nice view overlooking a lake, and many nights he would spend wandering the pine forest nearby, watching the stars, and smoking one of the cigars his teacher despised so much. These were powerful magics that were used to hide and block properties in a manner like that, and they were magics that Harry could not perform yet, so that route was likely blocked. He possibly could take over a house through a series of compulsion and memory charms, he would have to think more on that later. In fact that seemed preferable to buying another property, it was a long process to buy one, and he was unsure he would even be able to, they had always been under an assumed name that his teacher had taken on. But now was not the time for that, right now was his time for training, well it used to be his time for training, now it was his time for reading through the old tomes of knowledge and magic that he had managed to salvage after Dumbledore's raid.

The books he had left were not very numerous, maybe half a dozen thick tomes and grimoires specifically about necromancy, nor were they the books he wished he had. Sure, they taught necromancy, but just the most basic levels, the books he had did not even cover human reanimation, nor anything to do with the soul. They had necromantic and dark curses, they had plenty of those, and they also had various other spells, charms, enchantments, and magic that would be useful to necromancers trying to hide themselves and their practices. While all of these were useful they were simply not what Harry was looking for, and that was why he had killed the goblin. He had sent the goblin to Germany, on a mission to find and steal a tome from the library of a pureblooded family there, and bring it back to Harry. He had failed, and he had paid for his failure appropriately, Harry thought.

Exiting his private study, where he and the goblin had been, he walked down the carpeted hallway, looking at the few magical portraits that decorated it along the way. They had belonged to the previous owner, and were not of any importance to anyone, simple decorations. Reaching the end of the hallway Harry opened the door to the room that served as the small library, and grabbing a book sat at the one wooden desk in the room, and began to read.

He had already read this book before, but it would be good to make sure he had not missed anything in it. He had already read most, if not all, of the books in the small library once or more times. It was a side effect of having very few books, and a whole lot of time.


	2. Chapter 2

Still don't own it. J.K. Rowling still does own it.

Hoped you liked the first chapter, also check out my other story, my main story really, Night is Long. It's pretty good, at least I like to think so. Read and Review y'all

_Magical fire burned all around the grizzled old man, despite his age the man was fit and combat ready. From his black dragonhide boots to the gleaming black blade he held in his opposite hand he stood firm, holding his wand raised level at the even older man in front of him's chest. The older man had his own sword in his hand opposite his own wand, but his sword was simple and only enchanted for strength and sharpness. His robes flowed out behind his back, billowing slightly from the air being moved by the sheer amount of magic that had been cast. Magic tended to slightly disturb and disrupt the environment around it, when cast in large quantities and concentrations. While the simple steel blade did not have any complex enchantments this was not true with the fierce black steel sword the old man who was now slightly crouched behind his shield spell, for protections against the flames all around him, held in his hand, his black blade was enchanted to siphon the very souls of those it killed away from their body and rightful place in the spirit realm. The grizzled man had a look of intense concentration on his face, yet he did not realize it for he was too far locked into his own mind to tell. He was sending a message to his apprentice. His apprentice needed to know that he had to flee, that he had to escape while the old man bought him some time. Finally finished composing the message the man formed a Legilimency probe and sent it to find his student. _

_His consciousness coming back to his body, even as it continued to power the shield around him, the only thing keeping him alive and not burnt to death, he lashed out with another spell, "Bombarda!" The older wizard deflected the small jet of magic into one of the barely standing walls. As the entire building shuddered once more the old man knew that his apprentice had received the message and despite how much his apprentice hated running he would not disobey him. Not when it was this serious. The apprentice knew that he would probably not see his mentor again for a long time, but that it was possible to see him again followed the orders, running from the battle, just this once._

_Turning tail and running the apprentice went as fast as his legs would carry them. He had been hiding in a small closet when the attack started, and when he had decided to follow the orders he burst through the closet door and sprinted down the hallway. There was a window directly ahead of him, and he knew it would hurt as he leaned his shoulder into the impact and hit the fragile glass with all of his momentum. _

_Hearing the glass shatter, and feeling some slice his arms and face the young teen kept running away from the house they had been occupying. With his black robes billowing out behind him he clutched firmly onto his satchel of books and supplies. It was not much, a mere fraction of the sheer amount of books that had been in the house, but it was all he could gather. He ran as far as he could, eventually collapsing from the exhaustion about ten or so miles away from where he had started._

_Both men now breathing heavily their bodies strained to find the energy to continue to fight. They had been at it for almost three hours now, their own personal duel. They were both incredibly powerful wizards, and it was a shame that they had to fight each other. After all, they had gotten along in the past. But that was all the distant past, they could make no amends, and they had made no amends before. This was, after all, not the first time the two had dueled for hours, locked in a stalemate, each not unwilling, but unable to land a killing blow due to the power and strength of the other._

_"__I see you have my wand, Albus." These were the first words spoken during their entire duel, which was odd. It broke both of their hearts that they were now fighting as they were, they had both hoped to never have to be in this situation again._

_"__Where is the boy, Gellert? Please. Where is he? I will leave now and never return if you give him to me." Albus Dumbledore pleaded with his old friend, who was now turned enemy._

_"__Why? So you can kill him as well, or so you can befriend him and betray him later? Frangit Spina!" _

_Again deflecting the dark curse, this one would have broken and smashed his spine to bits had he been hit, Albus Dumbledore was carefully maneuvering in a circle, as was Gellert. It was as if two aged, but still powerful and deadly lions were stalking each other, looking closely for any weakness._

_With an enraged battle cry Gellert charged Dumbledore, and their swords clashed. The magical fire had long since gone out when Dumbledore had dropped his spell, and the two fighters crossed blades, each one taking turns striking and blocking as they slowly moved around the room in their deadly dance._

_"__We were so close, Gellert. Why? Why did you have to attack the muggles? Why did you have to become what you are now?"_

_"__Oohh, not going to ask about how I escaped your little prison, Albus?" Gellert dodged the question, as he dodged another of Dumbledore's strikes._

_"__I saw the dead guards Gellert, that was two decades ago as well. Where is the boy? Give me Harry Potter!" Albus was beginning to lose his famed patience, he was exhausted and weary, but he knew he would not give up, he could not leave Harry Potter in the hands of Gellert Grindelwald any longer. He had already made enough mistakes in Harry's life, he could at least try and fix this one._

_Little did he know that what he was going to eventually do that night would turn Harry Potter from him forever, thoroughly destroying any chance he had with making any amends with the boy._

_The two broke apart and each took a breath, they were a few meters apart but at that second neither could muster the energy to strike at the other, even so close to the end._

_Gathering the last of his strength Gellert Grindelwald raised his gleaming black, soul stealing blade, and with a yell he charged, "Death comes for you, Albus Percival Dumbledore."_

_Dumbledore tried to bring his sword up to parry or block in time to save himself, but his arm was too tired, it refused to move. Instead he did the first thing that came to his mind, and he would regret it forever._

_"__Avada Kedavra!" The cackling bolt of green energy struck the grizzled old Necromancer square in his chest, his eyes that were so full of equal parts hatred and determination a second before were now permanently glazed over, the slightest hint of surprise had just begun to register in Gellert's eyes and facial expressions._

_Collapsing to his knees, the battle done, Albus Dumbledore finally wept. All those years ago he had never cried for the loss of his dearest friend. Never, not once had he let the tears fall, but now was the time. _

_The immense and overwhelming sadness in his heart would be nearly impossible to overcome, but he would find away. He always did, and when it was difficult to he drew strength from the children. The children of Hogwarts, who he was meant to protect and serve. They were one of the few things that kept Albus Dumbledore going, especially in such dark and troubling times._

_But possibly the most important child had been failed by Dumbledore. Once before when he was left at the Dursley's and beaten to an inch within his much-too-short five year old life, and now this. He had killed his mentor, teacher, and friend. The only friend he had ever had. The only one to stop and care for him, the only one to teach him and give him the power to defend himself. The only one to give a damn about his entire existence was now dead by Dumbledore's hand._

_Miles away, in the forest, Harry James Potter screamed. Harry had watched the whole thing with a scrying spell, he had seen it all happen clearly. He screamed with such rage, hatred, and magic in his voice that the trees nearest him rocked back and forth, creaking perilously as their trunks abilities to hold firm was put to the test. All of the animals for miles around began to flee. They could sense the sheer despair and anger inside the young boy, and they could feel the oncoming magical onslaught._

_Still screaming, the fifteen year old boy began to hover slightly off the ground. His own magic whipped out against everything near him, knocking over trees, uprooting bushes, and sending rocks and small boulders flying. Gellert was dead. He couldn't believe it! The one curse able to kill a Necromancer permanently, the one curse alone that held that capability. The last curse anyone would have suspected the Headmaster of Hogwarts of ever using on anybody at all. But he had used it, he had used it and now the soul of Gellert Grindelwald was stuck in the spirit realm, severed from even the bonds he had formed with his body during his life as a Necromancer. The young teenaged boy collapsed into a heap of black robes and broken sobs. His vision swam with black as he lost consciousness._

Sitting bolt upright in his bed with a quickly stifled shout Harry Potter was officially awake for the day. He had had the dream again. More nightmare than dream, though. And he hated it so much. Each and every time he was awoken by it, each and every time he had to suffer through it he would wake up hating Albus Dumbledore more and more. It still surprised him that he could even learn to hate Dumbledore any more, but he always managed to.


	3. Chapter 3

Still don't own it. J.K. Rowling still does own it.

this shit bores me now. I'm not motivated like I was a few weeks ago. We'll see. Pretty much only finishing this chapter and posting because of the review I got for this story.

The dream always made him angry, it never failed in fact. Getting up from his bed, still dressed in his all black not very expensive looking yet comfortable night clothes, Harry raised his wand. Flicking it at the closet the doors sprung wide open. He had many things on his schedule that needed to be completed today, and he could not let a night of poor sleep slow him down even in the slightest.

Disrobing from his night clothes and putting on a set of muggle jeans, boots, shirt, and a thick coat Harry prepared for his day. Eyes glazing over slightly he focused and sent out a telepathic message to one of his few servants that he had left.

Finishing getting dressed in his muggle outfit, and entering the study he had been in the day before he sat down at his desk as the goblin servant that he had summoned entered with a silver tray with Harry's breakfast held in his hands. Setting the polished tray on the corner of the ornate desk the goblin exited the room cautiously after bowing slightly to his master. The goblin that Harry had slaughtered the day before was this goblin's brother, and Harry had been their master when they were both alive, now he was just the master to the one surviving goblin. The two brothers had been captured wandering around the woods in Austria near where Harry and Gellert had been at the time.

Gellert and Harry had taken them captive, and Gellert had done a rather complex bit of ritual magic that bound the two brothers to serve and protect Harry to the best of their ability. That had been two years ago. They had escaped death at Dumbledore's hands, instead fleeing the house before even Harry fled, suffering massive pain from deliberately deserting their master, but they had both believed that if Grindelwald perished the magic binding them to Harry and his will would dissipate.

Unfortunately for the two goblins this was not the case, and they stayed in horrible pain until they had managed to make their way to Harry. It had taken them three days of constant pain and agony to get back to Harry. Those days of constant pain were nothing compared to the immensely thorough torture Harry put them through afterwards. They had been tortured for days on end through horrendous curses and spells, even now the goblin would still twitch and ache from not completely healed injuries sustained during the torture.

It had been horrible for the goblin brothers, they had begged and pleaded for the release that death would bring them, yet it never came. They begged and pleaded with Harry to kill them, yet every time Harry would refuse, he would just smile cruelly and mercilessly. They would pay for their transgressions in blood. And they were also the poor victims when Harry's anger and frustration over the loss of Gellert would take over and cloud his judgement and decision making. They were still tortured sometimes when Harry was in a particularly poor mood.

Running a hand through his shoulder length black hair Harry sighed deeply as he picked up the cup of tea from the tray. He would forgo the usual breakfast he would have had, and instead would have his tea and then begin his day. He had much to do, and he had far to travel. He would be going to London that day. It was not only slightly tricky for Harry to navigate himself through the muggle transportation systems, but it was also dangerous to be going back into Britain. But London held the last safe house he had left in any major city world wide, not that he had had very many to start off with.

He was currently in his hidden house and property, located in North western France, so he would have to go to Paris, that was after all where he would be able to stay unnoticed. The smaller cities that he could have gone to would have allowed him to end up in London, yes, but the magical communities in each one all had been influenced or were swayed by either Dumbledore, the French Ministry, or even the British Ministry, who had been more and more involved covertly in their neighboring countries.

Sipping his tea intently he took a deep breath. He would have to carefully avoid Dumbledore and his little Order while he was on this trip. That would probably prove to be something of a challenge. Dumbledore would probably be able to sense him the moment he set foot on English soil, but hopefully he would be unable to get a decent fix on his position. If Dumbledore was able to pick out his distinct magical signature from all of those in London, and among all of the muggles then they would have a problem.

Finishing his morning cup of tea Harry stood from his seat and walked back into his bedroom. Grabbing a satchel that he had in the closet, prepared with a few changes of clothes and some spare money. He would only have to be in London about a week, and his safe house would have more food, clothes, and supplies for him.

Gathering the last of what he would need during his trip Harry closed the door at the top of the stairs, the door that led to his rooms, and tapped his wand to it. He was activating the wards around his personal study and quarters, they would keep anyone out and also his projects contained and in stasis.

With his satchel bag slung across his shoulders and his wand secure in it's holster Harry exited the house. He raised the wards around the house and walked to the edge of the ward line. Reaching the edge of the protections and charms Harry spun on the spot and silently disappeared.

Silently reappearing in the middle of a dark London alleyway Harry brushed the dust off of his coat.

Walking briskly out of the alley Harry set off in the direction of his safe house, he would be there fairly soon, and would be able to start his project as quickly as possible.

A few blocks away from the alleyway Harry suddenly appeared in, a very elderly man under some very heavy glamour charms to disguise his flamboyant robes, snapped his head up and looked directly north. He could sense a very powerful being that just apparated into London, not very far from where the elderly man was now.

Leaving some muggle money notes on the cafe table he had been enjoying his morning tea at the man stood up and briskly exited the cafe.

Albus Dumbledore had sensed a presence he had not felt for at least a year, and he did not intend to let him slip away again. This time Albus would make sure that Harry Potter would be his.


End file.
